


Endgame

by AthenaBorozon, TudorQueen



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6463240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaBorozon/pseuds/AthenaBorozon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TudorQueen/pseuds/TudorQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seneca Crane, running for his life at the end of the 74th Hunger Games, is moved to take refuge in a most unusual place. He soon discovers that he has more to offer than he ever suspected; this may change not only his own destiny, but that of Panem itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "An Apple in Its Mouth"

Seneca Crane watched with barely concealed horror as Katniss Everdeen revealed the nightlock berries she’d been carrying in her pocket, and shared them with Peeta Mallark.  
The Girl on Fire… the Star-Crossed Lovers… He’d fallen for it, as much as any of the idiots watching compulsively on their screens. “Get a message to Templesmith. We’re revoking the revocation. Two winners. NOW.” As the message was sent, he didn’t wait to see the response. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and strode back through the corridor that led to his private suite, the one in which he virtually lived during the Games.

He wouldn’t be right back. One way or another, he wouldn’t be back at all. He didn’t fool himself that his last-minute ‘save’ would save him at all. Snow had warned him, had warned him more than once. The President had a zero tolerance policy for mistakes. You either didn’t make any, or he disposed of you.

If he was lucky it would be a quick, easy death. Otherwise, there would be torture. Worse still would be if Snow had one of his special units transform him into someone – no, something – else. An Avox or something far more terrible. Everything depended on what would suit the man’s agenda.

He had precious few minutes. When Snow was displeased, he acted immediately. Seneca picked up the custom blade that helped him maintain his iconic beard, and then put it aside. He rummaged in the drawers till he found a more conventional razor. After shaving quickly, he ran water through his hair to remove all the styling product, then ran his fingers through it to destroy the careful construction.  
The face that looked back at him was younger, and not easily recognizable, he thought. He was about to leave when he realized that his outfit was also considered rather iconic – austere in the gaudy word of the Capitol, but he realized now that in its expensive defiance of fashion it also made its distinctive statement. He shed the jacket, vest and shirt, picking out a blue shirt from the wardrobe. It would minimize the impact of his eyes, but right now that seemed a good idea.

He knew the building inside out, including a small corridor that led to an unguarded entrance. He had abandoned his identification, including the small card used by Capitolites to make purchases. Too easily traced, so he would have to do without. As he emerged into the streets of the Capitol, he saw very few people. That would change abruptly, as the joint Victors would have been declared, a hovercraft dispatched to retrieve them from the Arena.

Hovercrafts. He thought he saw one now. It was probably the one sent to extract the Twelves, but he couldn’t be too careful. He saw people coming out into the streets, the public gathering places, chattering excitedly: “I knew that girl would win… somehow,” someone said, a woman in a gold and green swirled outfit, her hair dyed to match. Yes, Seneca thought… somehow, she did, and her gallant boyfriend, too. Somehow.

He was in one of the Market Squares, where vendors provided knick knacks and specialty food items in an open air setting. He realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that had been a slapdash affair, hurried and barely tasted. He approached a vendor who had savory bits of meat on sticks for sale. Reaching into his pocket for one of the less-traceable coins he had there, he was suddenly elbowed carelessly by another Capitolite. 

“Watch where you’re going,” he said. He was wearing purple with silver accents, and had the bearing of a man of some importance. Seneca pushed down his own irritation. “Sorry,” he murmured. The man started to say something, and then looked at him again. “You look familiar… have we met?”

“I’m sure we haven’t,” Seneca said, eyes suddenly cast down. 

“Hm,” the man said, then repeated, “Just watch where you’re going, boy,” as he moved on.

Relieved, Seneca bought the stick of meat, and a bottle of water to wash it down. As a precaution, he bought the simplest of the fashionable sun visors on sale by another vendor, and put them on. He knew he didn’t have enough money on him to afford a train, and anyway, train travel was severely restricted. But he had to get out of the Capitol. He was not nearly as recognizable out in the Districts, but even there, he knew he couldn’t stay any one place too long. He knew that every step he took would lead him farther and farther from the life he knew, but that life was over.  
All my life, he thought. I followed the Games, studied to be a Gamemaker, rose through the ranks, and now… who am I if I’m not Seneca Crane, the guiding genius of three years of Panem’s most popular Games, the prodigy who’d become the youngest man to hold his position?

Those questions would have to wait. He had to keep moving, and towards someplace, something, that would help him move forward. But where? 

He saw Peacekeepers in the crowd and, without changing his stride, went into a nearby shop, not knowing what purpose it served. Once inside, he could see that it was a confectionary, truffles, jellies, and other delicacies arranged in tempting displays all around the room. The middle aged woman at the counter looked slightly familiar to him but he didn’t have time to place her. He moved to leave the store.  
Suddenly two Peacekeepers came in. One of them pointed right at him and they both moved in his direction. Seneca did the first thing that came to his mind, upending a table stacked high with dipped fruit, right in their path. He fled for the back of the shop, looking anxiously for a rear exit and wondering where the hell he’d go from there. The curtains separating the back from the actual store fluttered open and he froze. It was a teenage girl, and she actually smiled at him. “Mother said to take you out this way. She has the situation under control…”

“You could be putting yourselves in danger.” Could? It was guaranteed.

“We know who you are. It’s all right.” She guided him out and down an alley. 

“Why - ?”

“Whenever you bought something, you always gave some to the children. You can’t be as evil as they say…”

Yes, he thought. I can. I am. 

At the end of the alley she gave him a silver foil bag. “Some food…”

“Thank you.”

She smiled again, this time mischievously. “May the odds be ever in your favor, Seneca Crane…”

He nodded and took off, navigating a labyrinth of alleyways behind the various stores and businesses that threaded through the Capitol’s public areas. But the last few years of luxurious living and moderate debauchery had taken their toll. He was winded by the time the sun set.

Where can I go where I’m not considered a traitor or a vicious killer? And how can I get there? His mind was swimming and he pressed himself to control it. He considered prayer, but he had never been a religious man and indeed, religion was discouraged by the Government, seen as a potential source of rebellion. He put aside thoughts of prayer and looked for a more practical plan. Then, somehow, the two strands of thought merged.

The Jedi Temple.

He’d never been there himself, but then again, not many had. The old religion had precious few adherents, and was dismissed by Capitol society as a hodge podge of fake mystics. They didn’t involve themselves in politics and had never commented on the Games at all. Best of all, the Temple was in the far Southeastern corner of the Capitol, at the intersection of the Second and Seventh Districts. And below the Second District… the wild lands. Unsettled, an easy way for a man to lose himself. He’d rather try his luck there than anywhere in Panem.

With a renewed purpose, he set out in that direction. It took him three days, moving steadily, not seeking rides or help. He was ragged and exhausted and malnourished when he reached his destination. It loomed in front of him, the semi-ruined stone structure that looked as if it belonged somewhere else, or at some other time. He made his way inside.

The interior was as austere as the exterior had been. He stood on a stone floor, beautifully inlaid, but without ornamentation or polish. Stone walls, thick, built to last, surrounded him. There was a rudimentary altar, and some benches, but they weren’t arranged in rows, and not all faced the altar. A cabinet crammed full of books. He started towards it but the journey caught up with him and he winced, sitting down on one of the benches. He noticed that his feet were swollen, and there was a dark bruise on his left ankle. He didn’t remember how he got it.

He tried to empty his mind of fear, of guilt, of any sort of expectation. He had a chance to live, and that would be enough. But he found that emptying to be easier said than done. His brain, once so disciplined, swirled with nearly random activity.

At first he didn’t notice the two men who had entered the room, but after a few minutes he became aware of them. He looked up, turning slightly, and gave them a quiet appraisal with his eyes. Uncomfortably aware that he was in a temple, he took off his sun visor. Their gaze was as steady as his own, perhaps steadier. One was his age, or even a little younger, with natural red hair and a short but full beard. The other was taller, more muscular, a presence – words, even movement, seemed unnecessary, but Seneca sensed that when he did move or speak, it would be accurate and confident.

They continued to gaze steadily at him, no sign of fear in their eyes. Finally, he said, “I’m in need of sanctuary…”


	2. Hard Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seneca finds a surprising welcome at the Jedi Temple

They continued to gaze steadily at him, no sign of fear in their eyes. Finally, he said, “I’m in need of sanctuary…I am Seneca Crane.   
The tall one spoke first, his voice calm and rich with an accent Seneca had not heard before, 

“We have been expecting you, Seneca Crane. We have observed your journey with interest since you entered our territory. The Master of our Temple has been been contacted by your President Coriolanus Snow and asked not to grant you sanctuary. You are a condemned criminal. We have been asked to detain you until a peacekeeper force can reach this Temple.”

Accurate and to the point as Seneca had thought. The younger man shifted his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his homespun outer garment . He settled into his stance, eyes never shifting from Seneca's face. There was an unnerving stillness to the two men.

Seneca looked down and away. All that pain, all that striving for absolutely nothing. Only to be returned to Snow for certain public torture atop certain death. His rebellion thwarted before it truly began. He felt his eyes sting and all his hurts throb. Tears? He hadn't wept over anything since childhood and then rarely. Seneca returned his eyes to the Jedi. He didn't mind if the Jedi saw his tears or his bone-deep fatigue. Let them think of him what they would.

“However,” The tall man said quietly, “Our Council has met and determined that honoring this request is not in keeping with our mission. Any peacekeeper force that comes here will be turned away.” 

Seneca looked around the quaint room and had a moment of question about the Temple's ability to repel an armed force. Then he came back to the steady gaze of the tall Jedi, and his doubt waivered. 

“ You will have sanctuary here, Seneca Crane, until such time as you are able to continue your journey. You are granted sanctuary within the boundaries of Talin Amer and within the walls of this Temple. I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn and this is my apprentice, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Senecea hung his head for a moment and heaved a great sigh of relief. Sanctuary after all if these Jedi could guarantee it and a chance to rest and heal.

“Please,” Obi-Wan Kenobi said, making a beckoning gesture with one hand. “walk with us. You need food and rest.”

Seneca's stomach gave an unsophisticated growl and he felt the strong cramp of his three-day fast. Obi-Wan smiled.

“If you don't mind my asking how is it that you can defy the President? You are practically part of Capitol City.” Seneca said as he limpingly joined the Jedi. Obi-Wan put out a steadying hand and Seneca smiled weakly, noting that the apprentice was a comely young man. What must it be like to be apprenticed to this dour giant?

“So it must seem to you, Seneca Crane...”

“Just 'Seneca', please” Seneca interrupted.

“Seneca.” Qui-Gon Jinn answered with a nod.

Talin Amer is not part of of the Capitol nor any District.” Qui-Gon continued, “We are not, in fact, part of Panem. The Temple and for three klicks in each direction is sovereign land held and managed solely by the Jedi as written and signed three hundred years ago in El Cuerdo -The Accord. This founding document in its entirety and related papers will be available to you in the Library if you have an interest.”

"Oh," Seneca thought to himself "I am going to have an interest."

“We are here.” Obi-Wan said turning to Seneca. “We eat when we have need and the refectory is always open!” That radiant smile again. This one wouldn't last long in the Capitol!

Seneca breathed in the scent of food and noted the few monks...rather masters and padawans, scattered at long wooden tables throughout the large room. Some talking in pairs or small groups, others reading or eating quietly. There was a peaceful hush about the room.

“Choose a seat where you like. A padawan will be with you in a moment to show you a menu and take your choices for a meal.” Qui-Gon said. “Obi-wan or I will be back when you have finished eating to take you to your lodgings in the guest's wing."

“Ven conmigo. Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon said in the language of El Cuerdo as he turned to leave.

As he sat waiting for the server to come take his order Seneca Crane let his mind wander over the time since his arrival at the Temple. He felt he had landed well here at the Jedi Temple. A hard landing in the beginning, but a good landing.

The crescent moon was out, holding a black pearl in her chalice horns before Seneca was fed a second meal, bathed and dressed in soft, loose, pajamas. He had to admit that the Jedi might be a bit backward, but they did know how to dress for comfort.

He stood before a small alcove in his room studying a piece of art in grey ink on a scrap of rice paper. It was the representation of a reed done in two or perhaps three strokes. Yet, in all the empty space he can feel the fullness of Summer and he can hear a quiet strain of music. He feels his hand twitch and a thread of desire runs through him.

How long had it been since he had held a brush in his own hand and faced a blank canvas? How long since he had followed a picture, an idea through to an end that had nothing to do with the deaths of children in the Games? He pushed that train of thought away. There would be time for introspection. Time to relive the past and seek out the path that led away from his life in the Capitol.

In the morning he would ask Obi-Wan what technique was used to create this little bit of ink and magic that hung in the alcove.

"Enough, Seneca." He said softly into the room, "Enough now."

He turned and studied his bed. Big and roomy, plenty of space to stretch out for a good sleep. He pulled the blankets back and leaned into the mattress with his hands bouncing gently. Soft, probably stuffed with clouds or some other mystical substance knowing these Jedi. He chuckled. 

As he was sitting on the edge of the bed preparing to swing his legs up and lie down, there came a soft knock at the door.

"I'm tired." He thought to himself, but rose with a sigh and crossed the smooth stones to pull open the wooden door.

To his great surprise two Jedi stood there, arms folded into their sleeves, faces in that neutral expression that he was beginning to grow used to. One with dark looks and beautiful strong features that he took to be a male and a fair-skinned blonde beauty that he took to be a female, but he had been wrong before.

"May I help you?" Seneca asked. "I was just about to go to bed. It has been a very long day." He smiled to ease the impact of his words.

"My name is Ta'alita Rhew." The blonde said "and this is my partner Kiel. We are here to offer ourselves as shield and comfort on this your first night at the Temple."

Shield and comfort. Seneca was not certain what they mean and said so.

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn did not know your preference in bedmate, therefore we have both come to offer ourselves for your comfort. To share your bed." Said Ta'alita Rhew.

"Either or both of us." Said Kiel as he leaned in and took Seneca's chin in his long-fingered hand and kissed Seneca's lips firmly, his tongue just gliding over the sensitive skin. 

Seneca jumped a little and gave a small grunt of surprise.

"Either or both of us." Kiel repeated gently. "We are of the Wokare' sect and well-trained in many forms of lovemaking. May we comfort you?"

Seneca smiled broadly and held out both hands taking one from each of the Jedi. Oh, both. Definitely both. 

The time that followed was a comfort indeed. Kiel and Ta'alita were beautiful in body and mind, Gentle and generous. Skilled as promised. Each offering him or herself utterly candidly. He was covered and filled and in turn filled the warm and accepting body of Ta'alita until they all lay in a an utterly satisfied and warm tangle. Proof against the cool mountain breeze that sighed in through the small window.

As he fell asleep with his mouth against Kiel's shoulder, the words of Qui-Gon Jinn returned to him.

"I am not in Panem. I am free."


	3. The Way We're Able to Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Snow in avid pursuit, Seneca seeks meaningful work among the Jedi. He learns something beyond a skill set - and must deal with something unexpected.

No one cheated Coriolanus Snow out of his due. No one. Treason was bad enough, but to compound it by disappearing before the requisite justice could be meted out…that was another matter entirely. He hated Seneca Crane for that, for eluding him when it should have been such a simple matter of detaining and punishing him. Plus, there was a special fire to hating someone of whom one had once been fond.  
For he had meant it when he told the young man he liked him, and cautioned him to be careful (“Why weren’t you careful?” he raged inside) It was easy to like him; he was handsome, well-mannered, absolutely brilliant in his own field and devoted to his job. And the fact that outside the confines of the Arena he was perhaps a little… dim, actually made him more appealing. He had no sense of political realities, and Snow had enjoyed trying to enlighten him from time to time. He had failed, it turned out, which was another point that added to his fury now. 

They’d issued a statement, the day after the Games, saying that Seneca Crane had been taken into custody. This sent the desired message that any sort of action that harmed the Capitol was treasonous and would be dealt with immediately. By the time he was located and executed, he would already be forgotten.

Snow looked at the most recent confidential report. A Peacekeeper team was already on its way to the Jedi Temple. If Seneca was there, they would be compelled to surrender him. If they refused, the team had orders to extract him, regardless of opposition. Perhaps this could all turn out to his benefit, the President mused. It was about time those so-called Knights understood that they were, in fact, subject to his rule. Talin Amer… whatever ridiculous name they wanted to call their barren bit of land, it was part of Panem. That was a political reality, the sort Seneca had never understood.

After his initial panic and exhaustion wore off, Seneca had feared the quiet routines of the Jedi. He had lived his life in something like a continuous series of adrenalin bursts, from one seemingly unsolvable challenge to the next. He feared that the Jedi way of life would be so contemplative as to be boring, not to mention he’d found that sort of contemplation… dangerous.

Yet they had offered him a routine that, while quiet, was not idle. He took his meals in the common room now. While he rarely took part in the conversations around him, he enjoyed the hum of their presence. The food was spare but satisfying, absent the precious touches every Capitol chef seemed determined to force on the outwardly sophisticated diners.   
He’d been issued clothes, robes that were similar to those worn by the Jedi, but not identical to the garb of the Masters and Padewans, for he was neither. He was visitor who had sought sanctuary and had, instead, found a warm, understated welcome. He still wasn’t sure why they’d been quite so welcoming, why they were in no hurry to see him move on, when all he could possibly bring them was trouble and conflict.

He was invited to participate in their exercises, based in traditions drawn from the Old Times; slow, complete movements that sharpened his focus and stretched his muscles. There was fighting training of some sort, too, but he had not yet been asked to undertake that. And there was time to sketch and paint, to read. He’d visited the archives and looked at the Accord with interest, but gave it up after nearly a day spent with its archaic language and long, droning legalese. So he turned instead to lighter reading, histories and legends of the Jedi over time. It was entertaining, certainly, but also informative. He’d always enjoyed history, and found it relevant to his own time, and this culture, to which he was being truly exposed for the first time, was increasingly fascinating to him. They preached of peace and unity – something called the Force that could draw the entire world together as one – but were also trained and dedicated warriors. What seemed like fairy tales could actually be seen as a schematic for a new world…

They were evidently not allowed to fall in love, but clearly sexual pleasure, affection… these were not forbidden. Ta'alita Rhew and Kiel continued to ‘comfort’ him, sharing his bed and imbuing it with warmth and ease. Whatever mood he was in, they seemed to instinctively know how to match it. He always tried to use them with consideration and even tenderness, for he felt touched by them in a way that left him grateful. He was, he knew, a ‘duty’ to them, and that sometimes gave him a pang of regret, but he had been training himself to focus less on those darker feelings since arriving at Talin Amer. Those tendencies still influenced him, though. He still sometimes liked some pain to heighten his pleasure, and even this they provided unquestioningly.

The more he settled into the routines, though, the more he felt the lack of contribution to the community. He had always been a hard worker, he took pride in it. And here… it was lovely, it was inspiring, but… he was apart from it. He was taking their hospitality and doing nothing in return. He thought about this as he began to relax into what had now become a more restful night’s sleep.

The next day, after breakfast, he sought out Qui-Gon Jinn, finding him in the expected company of Obi-Wan Kenobi. The younger man smiled at him, a smile it was impossible not to return.

“What can we do for you, Seneca Crane?” the Master asked. Seneca almost corrected him (“Just Seneca”) but decided against it.

“I’m not used to being idle, and while everyone’s been very accepting and…inclusive, I need to contribute somehow to life here.”

“Perhaps your presence is a contribution,” Qui Gon said.

“I need to do something more pro-active. I’ve got things to offer.”

“Indeed you do.”

“I realize I can’t do here what I did in the Capitol. But I want to be put to use.”

“I see…” The Jedi seemed to ponder the request for some time. Finally he said, “Yes, I believe you are right. Starting tomorrow morning, there will be work for you. You will report to the laundry.”  
His eyes widened slightly. The laundry? He had actual skills, he was one of the best ever at what he did…

Which was a sort of ritualized slaughter. He hung his head, suddenly ashamed again. And when he lifted his gaze, he thought he understood. “Yes, Master,” he said quietly but firmly.

“Thank you, my son.” Qui Gon said. He turned to leave. Obi-Wan lingered, and Seneca looked at him quizzically.

“He has his reasons. For everything,” the Padewan said.

“It’s all right. I understand.”

Obi-Wan flashed him a smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

Seneca reported for work the next morning after breakfast. The laundry, like the rest of the Temple grounds, had little to no technology. He was told to transfer several loads of linens from the washer to the dryer, both models that seemed to belong to a long ago time. It was easy enough, although the water weight made the piles of linens heavier, and more unwieldy. He was soaked soon into the process, but ignored that and continued to efficiently move them from one machine to the next. After a lunch break, he was told to dye some robes. The plant based dyes they used did not surprise him – although there were better ways to get exact color matches and smooth coverage. This time he ended up splattered with two or three different colors, but was assured that it would all come out easily enough. The work day ended and he cleaned up and went to the common area for dinner. He was hungrier than usual, and ate whatever was offered him. Again, he was content to listen to the murmured conversations without taking part in them.

Kiel came to him that night. They shared each other silently at first. Then, curled up together, Seneca found himself talking, about the day, about the work, about what he thought he was learning about himself, about the world. Kiel listened attentively, patiently, without judgment. He touched Seneca’s cheek at one point, and smiled at him more than once. When he was done, Seneca realized he didn’t really need a response from the other man, no affirmation, no praise. He curled up against him and drifted off to sleep.

The next day brought more of the same labor, and he devoted himself to doing it as well as he could. At times he missed the regard, the awe of those who had worked with him, or under him, their recognition of his gifts, of his passion. It might take a long time for that to fade completely, he told himself. This time at dinner he tentatively joined a conversation at his table, and was pleased – relieved, really – when they welcomed him into it without question, when they could have so easily snubbed him in a cordial manner.

Both his Wokare companions arrived that night. He found himself in a playful mood, one they reflected back to him with ease. He felt young – well, he was young, but younger than that – and strangely innocent.  
The next morning he reported to work again. New tasks were given to him, all to the same end. He continued to work hard. He had wanted to repay the Jedi, contribute in some way, and this was what they – or at least Qui-Gon – had decided they needed,

Late in the morning he dropped a rod, one used to remove lint and animal hair from robes. It rolled behind the washer. Crouching, he tried to reach it, but it was just out of his grasp. Unwilling to admit defeat that easily, he stretched his arm as far as he could, focusing all his energies on the rod, as if willing it into his hand. The thought would have made him chuckle, except at that very moment, he felt a surge of some sort run through his arm…

And the rod seemed to leap into his hand.


	4. Devils at the Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Seneca comes to grips with a strange new occurrence, an incursion by outside forces threatens to take him off his new path - permanently.

He stood frozen. Staring at the rod as if it had turned into a column of spiders in his hand.  
"Ugn!" he exclaimed dropping the rod to the floor. "What just happened!?" Confusion made his voice thick in his throat.

The other workers in the room were watching him now. Padawans and one other refugee. No one spoke.

"No, really. What was that all about? I was reaching for the rod and before I could get to it, it jumped into my hand. I felt electricity in my arm and it jumped into my hand." He held up the offending arm for all to see, rubbing it at the shoulder where the surge had begun.

A Padawan ran past him out of the door of the laundry.

"Where is she going?" Seneca demanded in an anxious tone. "I want someone to tell me what is going on, right now, damnit!" His eyes shifted from person to person to the open door at the back of the laundry as if he were going to bolt at any second.

"It will be fine. There is nothing to fear, Seneca." Bet'ten, the head of the laundry said as he crossed the short distance between them. "Parakin has gone to find a Master."

"A Master? Have I done something wrong? I didn't mean to do anything at all. Only retrieve the rod" Seneca said, his voice getting higher.

"No. Oh, no. There is no trouble, but it is not for us to explain. A Master will have the right words to instruct you on what has just happened. Be calm, Seneca. All is well." Bet'ten said encircling Seneca's shoulders with a broad arm.

"I don't want to be calm." Seneca roughly shrugged off Bet'ten's arm. "I want to know what happened!"

"Let's go outside and wait until the Master arrives, eh? The others will want to get back to their work." Bet'ten smiled and took Seneca's upper arm, guiding him gently, but firmly to the door.

Over his shoulder Bet'ten asked the others to please tell the Master that they had stepped out into the courtyard behind the laundry when he arrived.

As everyone returned to their jobs they were assailed Seneca's raised voice and a string of invectives that would have turned the air in the laundry blue

Bet'ten and Seneca rose from the stone bench behind the laundry as Qui-Gon Jinn approached with a steady stride. Moving purposefully, but certainly not hurrying. “Perhaps all would be well as Bet'ten had suggested”. Seneca thought. He had calmed down considerably under the ministrations of the Laundry Boss.

They bowed as Master Jinn arrived to stand before them.

“Bet'ten. Tell me what has happened here and why Parakin dashed into the library in such an excited state.”

 

“Master, it seems that Seneca here had a Force experience.” Bet'ten said as he scratched his head and looked up from beneath his bushy eyebrows.  
“Force experience?” Seneca interjected. “It was something strange and unasked for. Something unnatural.” 

“Come, Seneca Crane. Sit with me and we will talk. Thank you, Bet'ten for staying with our guest until I was able to get here . I appreciate your care.” and with that and a bow of the head from Qui-Gon, Bet'ten was dismissed. He did look back at the pair a time or two as he walked toward the laundry and shook his head as he entered the arched doorway. What a lot of fuss over something so simple. Outsiders! They could really be a handful!

 

As he lay comfortably between Ta'alita Rhew and Kiel, having taken...rather been given his pleasure with them his mind trailed back to his earlier conversation with Master Jinn.

Far from unnatural, Qui-Gon had explained, the Force was the most natural of things. The Jedi subscribed to the idea that the Force existed inside all living beings. Binding and penetrating them. They further believed that certain individuals were sensitive to the power or current of the Force and could direct it for their protection and assistance – such as retrieving the lint rod as Seneca had done. As they talked Seneca recalled other times during the running of The Games that an enormous power to coordinate everyone and solve complex problems came to him. He had attributed that to dedication and talent for his work, but now he could see that perhapes the Force had been at play in those instances, too. Complexities smoothing out in his mind. All of his co-workers relaxing into their places and trusting his judgment. 

Master Jinn had said that though he was older he could undertake the Jedi training and learn to harness and understand his newly revealed skills. Was that what had brought him to the Temple? Had the Force brought him here and what did that mean? President Snow and the culture of the Capitol discouraged such religious thoughts as Higher Powers and pre-determined destiny. The people of The Capitol mocked the Jedi and wrote them off as foolish men and women playing at some romantic game of warriors and monks.  
Seneca had confided in Qui-Gon something that had not even yet fully taken shape in his mind or heart: To stop The Games and aid the Rebellion.

 

The little bell above the gate to Talin amer was rung with a pale rope.

“How charming and quaint.” General Speder said as his lieutenant gave the rope a tug and the bell rang out politely. “These Jedi think we will hesitate to blow their Temple off the map?” He snorted in derision.

Slowly one half of the wooden gate creaked open and a small figure was revealed.

“We bring a strike force and they send a little child to answer the bell...”General Speder thought. This was going to be tedious as all Hell.

It was little Parakin from the laundry who had answered. 

“Good afternoon. You have reached the Temple at Talin Amer. How may we help you.” She said , then bowed in greeting.

“We are here to arrest the condemned traitor, Seneca Crane. Now we know he is here little girl so why don't you run get him for us and we'll be gone in two shakes of a little lamb's tail.”

General Speder had bent over to speak directly into Parakin's face as if she were an earthen child and not a member of the diminuitive Nen people of Missfl 2.

“If you will wait here one moment, please.” Parakin said as she closed the gate on General Speder and his lieutenant.

“Well I'll be damned. “ Speder said in surprise. “That took some cajones.”

He nodded his head at Lieutenant Fall signaled the waiting troop transports to move forward. Each transport held a dozen fully armed Peacekeepers ready for battle. 

When the gate opened again and fully this time two men stood inside. A tall man who and a smaller ginger bastard who regarded them calmly, with just the hint of a smile which he wouldn't be wearing long if Speder had anything to say about it.

Before Qui-Gon could speak, the General stepped forward and handed him a piece of paper.

This is a warrant for the extraction and arrest of the condemned traitor, Seneca Crane. We are prepared to take custody of him immediately and by force if necessary.” The General said in his most authoritative voice. He stepped aside so that the Jedi could see the force that had drawn near the the Temple.

Qui-Gon read the warrant and saw that it bore the signature of President Snow.

He handed it to Obi-wan who tucked it into the front of his tunic.

“Talin Amer is a sovereign state and not subject to your laws or demands as stated in El Cuerdo, The Accord, as your President Snow knows quite well.

“We are not obligated to surrender Seneca Crane to you nor are we obligated to allow you to search our lands or Temple and grounds.” Qui-Gon said evenly. However, we are not interested in provoking a war so our Master and Council have agreed to allow you and a small contingency of your forces to search the grounds and Temple, though I assure you that Seneca Crane is no longer here with us."

Speder gave a hand signal to his lieutenant and six armed Peacekeepers joined them as they entered the Temple grounds. He signaled one group of three to go east and one group of three to go west.

“That traitorous scum is here and we're going to find him and drag him back for his execution. Today. Understood?” The lieutenant nodded sharply and headed off with the General to search the main Temple.


	5. The Only Thing Stronger Than Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While a new world begins to open to Seneca, Snow wrestles with some unwelcome memories, and Talin Amer faces a deadly challenge

General Speder led his unit through the Jedi enclosure. To his surprise, there was no resistance, no animosity. People stood aside when told to do so, answered questions directly (or at least seemed direct in their answers) and seemed to accept the presence of the Peacekeepers as a reasonable thing. 

As the commander of an elite unit, Speder was used to being greeted with fear. Even collaborators were afraid of an intrusion by Peacekeepers. These Jedi puzzled him. Surely they knew he could have their entire settlement levelled with a single command… Were they too simple to grasp that? Or… and he had to acknowledge the possibility… did they know but simply not care?   
The Capitol was supposed to be respected, sometimes feared, though if you did what was expected of you, there was little to fear. From what he’d heard, Crane had been quite good at doing what was expected – until suddenly he wasn’t.

Taking refuge with the Jedi was pretty unpredictable, when you thought about it.

Speder and his men were treated respectfully throughout the compound, and no door was closed to them. The young man who escorted them – referred to as a Padewan, a strange word with no meaning to the Peacekeepers – was deferential and discreet. He said they were welcome to stay as long as they needed, but “Seneca Crane is not here.”

They went through the dormitories, and finally came to a small room in a far corner. “This was his room,” they were told. Speder signaled his men to draw their weapons. “You won’t need those,” their guide said, with an enigmatic smile. He looked at the young man stonily and they kept their weapons ready. Inside, they saw a bed – more of a cot, really – a small table with a lamp, and an open closet with nothing in it. On the table was a sketch pad with most of the pages torn out. As Speder approached the table, he saw something else lying on top of the sketch pad.

It had been a white rose, now brittle and withered. The thorns had at some point been carefully pruned away. Speder stared at it, knowing where it must have come from. And, not for the first time that day, he was bewildered.

 

When Seneca woke up, the last thing he remembered was being escorted out through the back of the compound, to an arid, flat expanse of land. He thought he might have felt a pinprick against his arm, but he wasn’t sure. Of course, that would go a long way toward explaining why he was now in a room made entirely of metal, with a window that showed a night sky, although it had been broad daylight when he’d made his escape. He got up, a little unsteadily, and made his way towards the one door. It was locked.

Had he been captured? he wondered. He didn’t think so. The room wasn’t like the cells in which prisoners were held, tortured or made to disappear. He knew just enough about the darker places in the Capitol to know that.

He went to the window, and noticed that there was no way to open it. He also noted that the stars were arrayed very differently than the view he had from the Temple. Where am I? he wondered, then “How did I get here?”

He was still at the window, still trying to figure out the stars, when he heard the door open. He turned toward it quickly. Qui Gon stood there, nearly filling the door frame. “Where am I?” Seneca asked. “What the hell is going on?” 

The Jedi Master raised his hand. “You have many questions.”

“You think??” Seneca responded.

“And they will be answered. First of all, you are on board a ship.”

“How’d I get here? There are no ports in the Capitol.”

“It’s not that sort of ship. You’re on board a retired Star Destroyer now used for surveillance and transport when necessary.”

“Wait… a Star Destroyer? A… space ship?” He looked disbelieving.

“There is far more to the Jedi Order than even you, with your energy and inquisitiveness, have been able to grasp.”

“Like space ships.”

“The ships are… a mechanism. A tool. They are less important than the people involved with them.”

“How did I get here? On this…mechanism?”

“You were brought by a smaller ship.”

“Why?”

“For your safety.” Seneca stared at him. “And, if you wish, to start your training.”

“My training?”

“We have believed for some time that you might be Force Sensitive. The incident in the laundry showed that it could be strong in you. We even believe it helped you in your… previous work.”

“Oh, right, when I was finding creative ways to slaughter children. Yes…”

“You are only now beginning the first steps towards grasping your potential. Only when you understand it will you be able to properly choose how to use it.”

“Ok, so who’s the ‘we’ you keep mentioning? You and Obi-Wan?”

“The Jedi Council. I told them of my belief in your sensitivity and they have been monitoring your progress.” Seeing Seneca’s confused look, he said, “The Jedi Council is the leadership that guides us. They are the wisest and most adept, in some cases the greatest warriors, because we, too, need and must nurture our warrior class for when it is regrettably necessary.”

“Like now?”

“We are hoping not… But I’m afraid I’m not really answering your most important questions. The Council, after much deliberation, has decided to offer you the opportunity to train, and develop your potential.”

“To become a Jedi?”

“Perhaps. Your path may lead somewhere else. Your connections to the Capitol and the fact that the President of Panem is determined to locate and punish you may be a factor one way or another. That has yet to be revealed. But… I would like to see you prepared for whatever comes into your path.”

“I’m not remotely religious.”

“Many are not… to start. And perhaps religion as we understand it is not as you have been raised to understand it. The Force isn’t about divisions and doctrine, it’s a unifying energy.”

Seneca nodded. “I remember you saying that when we first met, that it was a unifying energy.”

“And I believe you are beginning to truly understand that.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know…”

“If you decide to enter training, you will find many of the answers you seek within yourself. But… consider this. It is not required. We have guaranteed your protection and it will be provided whether or not you wish to continue.”

“You’re right. I still have so many questions…”

“We will give you some of our early writings, and provide a Master to guide your journey.”

“Will it be you?” Seneca asked hopefully.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Each Master is only allowed to train one Padewan. I am Obi-Wan’s Master and cannot take another student. But I will make sure you are given to the care of a Master who will be quite suitable.”

“I believe you.”

“Good. Now, you have been without food for some time. Would you like to join the Padewans in their dining area or would you prefer a tray brought to you?”

“A tray, maybe just for tonight.” His mind began to form another wish.

“The Wokare are here. You will still be in their care if you wish.”

“I do,” Seneca said, reaching for his old assurance.

“Dinner will be brought to you soon.” He bowed and withdrew. Seneca returned to the bed. He saw that the nightstand had a drawer. He opened it and smiled to see a fresh sketchpad, some pastels and charcoal, and the sketches that had been detached from the one in his Temple quarters… For a moment he felt less confused and bewildered.

 

Coriolanus Snow sat at his massively elegant mahogany desk, chair turned towards the window, where his gardens unfolded in unending, organized delight. Yet they did not completely please him as they usually did. They were in order but his mind was not. 

His thoughts turned, irrationally, to Livia. Black hair tumbling around her face, blue eyes flashing with laughter or anger. Teasing him in a way no one else had, no one else could. For her he broke so many of his own internal rules. Because… she was beautiful? Intelligent? Witty? Because although she miraculously seemed to care for him, not his power, not his office, he never felt he absolutely owned her. And that instinct had been confirmed when she left him.

“I love you, Cory… I do. But I can’t love what you’re becoming. And I can’t just stand here and watch it happen.” And so she’d left, gone to a distant part of District Three, working quietly for a company that produced televisions. They had not seen each other until, during a state visit to the District, he had gone to visit her – and the seven year old son who looked so like her.

“You say you’ve ‘taken an interest’ in Seneca?” she asked warily. She was as beautiful as ever, more so in the simpler styles, executed with her inherent elegance and reflecting her fine bones, something else her boy had inherited.

“Yes. He seems bright, and eager. Good material. I’ll make sure he gets a first-class education and if he thrives, I’ll get him started in life. Not that I want him to ever know this. And if he shows a particular talent, his career path will be smoothed to a certain extent. I won’t do him special favors, but I will give him every opportunity to show me what he’s made of.”

“And how he can best serve you,” she said wryly. He smiled in spite of himself.

“Do you accept?”

“I shouldn’t… I’m not at all sure he’ll benefit in the end… but yes. I won’t be the one to deny him his chances in life. And you’re right. He’s very bright, and eager to make something of himself.”

“Well, I can guarantee him one benefit. You’re still a Capitol citizen. Which makes him one. So he’ll never be Reaped…”

“No, you’ll find a way to bind him to you… Well. Now that this is decided, you should stay for dinner, get to know him, let him get to know you… if that’s possible now.” She smiled slightly. “Am I the last person who ever really got to know you, Cory?”

“Perhaps,” he said, with a surprising touch of discomfort.  
\---  
His uncomfortable reverie was interrupted by one of his aides. “President Snow…. We have a report from the extraction team”

“Well?” he asked irritably.

“Seneca Crane is not at the Jedi Temple. It was completely searched. Either he had moved on of his own accord, or he was tipped off somehow that they were coming.”

Snow seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Continue to gather intelligence and figure out where he went. And issue a new order to the extraction team….”

“Sir?”

“Level the Jedi Temple and everything around it. Make certain nothing and no one remains.”

“But Sir, they cooperated completely.”

“So?” he asked coldly, and turned away.


	6. Shooting Straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi pay the price for Snow's ruthless focus, and Seneca meets up with an unexpected face from the past

For a time there was near silence outside the adobe walls of Talin Amer. Only the voices of men rang out now and then. Until a sharp point of red light raked across the brass fittings of the wooden gate followed by an enormous crash.  
"They are sighting in their weapons!" Bet'ten called over his shoulder to the gathered crowd. "We'd best call Master Jinn and prepare to evacuate!"  
A murmer rippled through the crowd and the Padawans and refugees began to stir. Moving quietly, in an orderly manner toward the rear gate of the Temple.  
Another crash sounded. This was noticeably nearer the main entance and a roll of dust drifted through the boards and underneath the ancient gate.  
Many in the crowd cried out, but did not run. "To the ship! To the ship now. Quickly!" Bet'ten called holding his arms out to herd the group.

The adobe wall and entrance to the Temple at Talin Amer crumbled as General Speder's weapons found their target. Debris rained down over the courtyard where all the remaining residents of the Temple were gathered. Many in the crowd cried out in alarm covering their heads and faces. They moved rapidly now making their way to the rear gate where they pushed through onto the barren patch where the jump ship that had spirited Seneca Crane to safety recently sat.   
Bet'ten ran up the ramp of the ship. Peacekeepers erupted through the rubble and aimed their weapons at the group. Bullets richocheted off the ground and several of the running figures were struck directly by the projectiles, but not to their deaths.

"This way! Hurry now! Everyone up the ramp and we'll be away to safety" The wounded were carried by the untouched in the now running mass. Soon enough the ramp was lifted and the Peacekeepers' bullets and RPG's bounced harmlessly off the shiny salidnium skin. Bet'ten and several others looked out the viewing port as the ship lifted off and shook their heads as the Bell Tower that had stood 300 years above the Temple at Talin Amer rocked, then collapsed onto the roof of the dining hall.

General Speder watched the ship ply it's way into the clear sky until it was a silver disc, then a dot, then the memory of a ship singing in his ears. His stomach churned nervously, a cold spear stabbed through his bowels. Snow was not going to be pleased that the residents of Talin Amer were heading toward the great ship that orbited the planet...visible as a shadow outlined by lights on clear nights in Panem. Lovers kissed beneath a spotting of the ship, but there would be no kudos or kisses for General Speder. 

Speder called his lieutenant over with a harsh command.  
The lieutenant saluted and stood attentively awaiting his next orders.  
"Take a team in and search for papers, communicators, personal effects. Anything that will tell us more about this place...artwork...anything...and how it worked and what their "mission" was. When you are finished, raze the Temple. Not one stone left standing and I want that landing pad blown to Hell!” Speder jammed his finger in the face of his lieutenant “Do you understand? Completely gone. Nothing left but the foundation and only that if you have to leave it. Bring in the troops and choose your search team. Well...today, Lieutenant...right now! I am returning to the Capitol. Report to me when it is done!”

The lieutenant saluted again, sharply “Sir, yes sir!”

Simply because General Speder was a high profile member of the Presidential staff and because Snow had already declared Seneca Crane captured and dispensed with, the General was allowed to take his own life with Nightlock in his private quarters. After, of course, he had given every ounce of information he had about the escape of the residents and the ship that took them to safety. His body was burned and his bones disposed of at the Talin Amer foundation site. 

That was where he assumed Seneca Crane had been taken. By jump ship to the large ship where it was impossible to reach him until the Jedi agreed to return him or his son could be persuaded to come home to face his punishment. Snow turned a lilac colored rose in his fingers. Seneca would be brought home and punished and his mother, Livia, would be made to watch every moment of it: Whether it was to be death – Or being made an avox or some other fate Snow had not yet imagined.

He tore the petals off the lilac bud and let them fall to the floor. One by one crushing them with the heel of his boot.

 

The cries and moans of the wounded mixed with the voices of friends greeting on the landing deck of the Star Destroyer as Bet'ten and the residents of the former Talin Amer Temple met. Medics rushed with stretchers to gather those struck by bullets or debris as the Temple was razed.

“It was entirely destroyed, Master Jinn. Not a stone left standing.” Bet'ten explained. “We have some seriously wounded to be tended to, but no deaths. What a dark moment for us all.” Bet'ten pushed back his bushy hair and shook his head. His round face was a study in despair.

“Es'Tevez Temple will have accomodations for all of our people when we are certain it is safe. For now, Bet'ten, I place you in charge of settling everyone; coordinating help for those wounded. Make reports to me or to Obi-Wan regularly. I have other business to attend to.” Qui-Gon placed his hand on Bet'ten's shoulder to soften the sharpness of the orders before he strode away toward the lifts to the administrative levels.

Katniss Everdeen stormed along the seeming endless curved hall of the Star Destroyer. She was breathing through her mouth, her heart pounding with rage.

“I'll kill him with my bare hands around his throat! I'll squeeze the life out of him and throw his body out into space.” She ranted internally, her lips moving in sync with her racing thoughts “I'll reach into his chest and pull his beating...”Her diatribe was interrupted by her arrival at the smoked glass doors of the office Qui-Gon Jinn kept onboard. She nearly danced with impatience as the doors slid slowly open and there he stood. Seneca Crane. Tormentor, murderer!

Gale Abernathy and Peeta Mellark slipped through the doors behind Katniss, ever at her back to protect her. 

“What is this?” Katniss demanded of Obi-Wan Kenobi who stood behind a white poly-carb desk. “Why is this trash here alive?” Why have you spared him his rightful fate?” 

She rushed up to Seneca who had just turned to face the Tributes and punched him directly in the face with her fist! Seneca reeled back against the conference table and fell to the floor holding one hand up to stay another attack as Katniss loomed over him.

“Stop!” Obi-Wan commanded. “Stop this at once! Katniss!” He took her shoulder and raised her back up to a standing position.

“Seneca is here under our protection and this means from you as well as President Snow or any other.”

Obi-Wan firmly turned Katniss to face him.

“Calm yourself. All will be made clear.” 

When her color returned to her pale face Obi-Wan released Katniss to Gale and Peeta who stroked her back and stood close to her.

Seneca scraped himself up off the floor. He used the cuff of his sleeve to dab at the blood oozing from his nose and upper lip.

“It's fine, Obi-Wan...” Seneca said. “It's not the first time Katniss has tried to kill me."

“No! Oh, no, Seneca. I never tried to kill you. If I had meant to pin you to the wall with an arrow you would have been pinned. I meant to shame you and I hope shooting the apple out of that pig's mouth did the job. I hated you then and I despise you now. You couldn't even stay to accept your execution with any *grace*.” Katniss spat, stepping away from Gale and Peeta who each put a restraining hand on her arms. 

Seneca gave a small, rueful smile. “I don't much like you, either, Katniss Everdeen.” He took a steadying breath. “You nearly cost me my life, in any case, after I saved yours."

"How the hell did you save my life? With the fireballs? The tracker jackers? The muttations?"

"I changed the rules and then changed them back, then once again at the end, just before you and your boyfriend were going to commit suicide. I was the only one who could do that.". Seneca said. 

Before Katniss could respond Qui-Gon Jinn entered the room.

“Obi-Wan? What are you discussing?” 

Jinn noted the blood on Seneca's face and understood at once.

“Conflict between us will do no one any good. We are here with a common purpose and each has his or her gifts to offer to the process.”

“I don't understand...” Gale said. “What common purpose* could we have?

Qui-Gon looked at each party in turn.

"To end the Hunger Games and the Rule of Coriolanus Snow."


	7. Thank You For The Consideration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seneca faces more of his past, and begins to consider a future. Snow asks Livia for help.

Seneca looked stunned for a split second. “You’re doing it… what I talked about. You – you’ve been doing it all along. That’s why you were so interested in me.”

“It wasn’t the only reason,” Qui-Gon said with a gentle smile. “And you must still choose for yourself. But yes, we hoped you would be someone who could make a difference to this struggle.”  
“A rebellion?” He looked at Katniss, Gale and Peeta. “And you’re part of it? How did you get away from Snow’s surveillance? What about your families?”  
“Uh uh,” Katniss said. “I’m not telling you anything.” She whipped around to look at the two Jedi. “And you’d better not either.” Obi-Wan smiled, amused to see this teenage girl dictating to Qui-Gon Jinn.  
“Seneca, don’t you have a training session?” Qui-Gon said gently.  
He nodded and left the room, giving Katniss another backward glance.  
“You’re training him? For what?”  
“For whatever his destiny may be,” Qui-Gon said.  
“You don’t really know him, Miss Everdeen,” Obi-Wan said quietly.  
“Oh, I know him; he’s a sadist and a narcissist so I hope you know what you’re getting into.”  
“When you met him he was entirely a creation of his environment, and he hadn’t discovered the strength to resist it. We are helping him find that strength.”  
Katniss snorted in a very unladylike fashion. Gale said, “He may be right, Katnip. And if he is… Seneca could be very useful to us. No one knows the Games, the Arenas, as well as he does.”  
“Because he created them!”  
“He may be more… complex than we’ve given him credit. A lot of people in the Capitol respected and even liked him – including his own team. They said he was quick to praise them and give them encouragement.”  
“That doesn’t speak well of that team, does it? He encouraged them to be more creative in their… murders? And where did you get this ‘information’?”  
“I didn’t. He did.” He motioned at Peeta. “He’s made friends up here.”  
“Peeta makes friends everywhere,” Katniss muttered, but the sting wasn’t there.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Seneca’s training sessions were with other people exploring the Force for the first time – which made him the oldest one in his class by quite a bit. Evidently they evaluated and staged their children from quite a young age – even younger than he himself had been selected for training in visual design and gaming.  
Although not physically arduous, the exercises were meant to be done with a focused intensity that left him in an odd mixed state – exhausted yet somehow exhilarated. Aleta Costa was his Master, though he was also evaluating the young recruits, who had at first looked at Seneca with great amusement but were now used to having him there. He found it preferable to some of the Talin Amer refugees who looked askance when he approached, some with a thinly veiled hostility.  
They blamed him for the destruction of Talin Amer, In fact, he rather blamed himself. It had been selfish for him to go there, short of faith, lacking direction. He had allowed the Temple to be exposed to the danger he brought in his wake.  
He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t known it could happen this way.  
Suddenly he felt a gentle hand on his arm. He looked up to see his master, Aleta Costa, who wordlessly motioned for his new trainee, not yet a Padewan, but in his careful charge, to go with him.  
They went to another, smaller chamber. “Master?” he asked.  
“You are unfocused today, Seneca.”  
“I’m sorry,” he said. Aleta Costa shook his head.  
“You don’t need to be sorry. In fact, I’d rather you weren’t. Better to understand the source.”  
“Well… I just ran into some people from my past. It was… startling.”  
“You know, Seneca, your past didn’t stop existing just because you moved to leave it behind…”  
“I’m reminded of that fairly often. Does this mean my efforts are futile?”  
“Far from it.” A Padewan came in with tea, which Aleta prepared, handing a cup to Seneca, who wrapped his hand around it. “You will not be a Jedi Knight.”  
“But, Qui Gon said…”  
“Qui-Gon is a deeply empathetic and optimistic man. This is a great virtue, but it sometimes causes him to make small errors of judgment.”  
“This doesn’t seem small to me.”  
“Ah, but Seneca, it is. You have your path… Qui-Gon has been instrumental in placing you upon it, and bringing you to us. But you are far too old to become a Jedi. However, you will benefit from the training, as will your world.”  
“I’m not sure I understand.”  
“The training will help you accomplish that understanding. You will learn how to use the Force mindfully… and that mindfulness will be most important.”  
He nodded slightly. “Because I was using it… incorrectly before. When I didn’t even know it existed.”  
His Master smiled. “See? You are starting to understand already.”  
_______________________________________________________________________  
Seneca, leaving Aleta Costa’s presence, was lost in thought and not quite looking where he was going when he stumbled up against someone - someone with a familiar bulk. "Plutarch?" he said in amazement, looking at his old second-in-command.  
"Seneca!" The older man smiled. "Everyone thought you were dead."  
"I was, briefly. What about you? I assumed you'd be named my replacement."  
"I was, briefly. You look good. Different... but good."  
"You do, too. The same, but good." He was surprised at how pleased he was to see this reminder of his lost life. And part of that pleasure was in recognizing that Plutarch was happy to see him, too. “What are you doing here?”  
“It’s a long story, and I’m on my way to something, so I can’t fully explain now. Why don’t we take dinner together and catch up? For now, let’s just say I’m involved in the effort to bring real change to Panem, and the Jedi are our friends in that.”  
“You’re part of the rebellion that’s brewing?”  
“Yes, and I understand you are, too, or soon will be.” He clapped Seneca on the shoulder. “I’ll admit I was a little surprised, but I couldn’t be happier. Dinner?”  
Seneca nodded, still absorbing everything he’d seen and heard that day. Plutarch smiled and continued down the corridor.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ President Snow sat at his desk, hands templed under his chin. Talin Amer was destroyed as if it had never existed but still Seneca was eluding him. How did he manage that, given his limitations? Were the Jedi such potent allies as that? He had dismissed them as quasi-mystics from an irrelevant age, but now they were a thorn in his side. He felt a certain pleasure in the destruction of their ramshackle temple.  
His aide spoke to him over the intercom. “Sir, there is a woman here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment. Her name is Livia Crane.”  
Snow straightened in his chair. “Well, send her in!”  
He had not seen Livia in a long time. Although she’d returned to the Capitol not long after Seneca had been enrolled in school there, she did not live with him and made no attempt to see the President. Not wanting the secret they shared to get out, he denied himself her company.  
She was still beautiful. Her hair was now iron grey, there were a few lines here and there, and she was thinner than he remembered, but she still had the grace and innate elegance he remembered, as well as the penetrating blue eyes. She was dressed quite simply, although she could have afforded far better, with her own income and the money he knew Seneca had sent her every month.  
She was also clearly angry, as well as grieving.  
“Where is he… Mr. President?” she said with cool fury.  
“Livia…” He got up.  
“I want his… remains. Whatever state they’re in. I want to bury him properly, I want to know where he is.”  
“I’m sorry,” he started.  
“No, you’re not. You did what you always do, you put your own ambition ahead of everything and everyone else. Even your own son. He served you so well, all he wanted to do was please you, and then… why? Why did you decide he had to die? How did it… serve you?”  
“He made an unforgiveable mistake.”  
“No, he made a mistake, and whatever it was, you decided it had to be unforgiveable. Where is he? Give me my boy!” She stood there, staring at him with those eyes…  
“I can’t, Livia, not yet.”  
“Because it doesn’t suit your purposes right now?”  
“No. Because he isn’t dead.”  
“But the official statement said – “  
“Yes, because that, at least, suited my agenda. But Seneca isn’t dead. Not yet. And you might be the one person who can save his life.”


	8. To Our Readers

Just wanted to let everyone know that we haven't given up on "Endgame". We've had some time issues and hit a few roadblocks, but there will be a new chapter soon

Thank you for your patience.


End file.
